Genevive Chamblee's Blog, page 57

“Edjamahkateshun”

Understanding and learning go hand-in-hand. To learn, you need a certain degree of understanding. And when one understands, he/she tends to learn.

Today, a few friends and I had a conversation about college. We began reflecting on our college experiences and how different it is today..like pajama classes in the dorm, shuttle services to classes, or the absence of upperclassmen dorms. Do what? No more being tortured by mother nature or rushing to the dreaded 8:00 AM class when one awoke at 7:55 AM? No waiting in line for hours to register for a class only to have it be full by the time one makes it to the counter. Nope, it all seems like the land of milk and honey for today’s students.

Our talk turned to more specific classes and teachers. Or more specifically than that, we discussed some of our worst professors who should have been fired and was a disgrace to the teaching profession.

Mine was Dr. S. She taught freshman college algebra. As naive freshmeat, I didn’t know to avoid her class.

First, the class was taught in an auditorium of 300 students. There were no microphones, and she didn’t project her voice or repeat herself.  Her defenders would say: move to the front of the classroom. Well, not all 300 students could sit in the front row or cram into the first ten rows for that matter. Plus, there was a sitting assignment.

On the first day, she said to pick a seat, and that became one’s assigned seat for the rest of the year. For those who had a class across campus before hers, they were doomed for the rear.

Another thing was attendance didn’t count to improve a grade, but she lowered grades for nonattendance. The way she took roll was via two grad assistants who walked the outer aisles and marked if a warm body was in the desk. If a student came late or moved to another desk and the student’s assigned seat was empty, it counted as an absence. It also depended on when the grad assistants arrived. Sometimes, they came early, minutes before class was scheduled to begin. The took roll by going row by row. So, if they started early and passed the student’s row, oh well, too bad. They didn’t go back. Like a black mark on your permanent record–no do-overs.

Dr. S. would start the class by asking if there were questions about the homework assignments. Then, she randomly would pick three students (generally seated in the front} to answer. After that, no more questions, even if there were twenty more. She’d say, “We’ve got to move on.”

Then, for the best part. She’d start the day’s lesson by working problems on scrolling dry erase boards that went from the normal location of a chalkboard to the ceiling. Students in the rear usually couldn’t see the problems as she worked them and had to wait until she completed a board and rolled to the ceiling. Fun stuff there.

But the kicker was, she’d always say, “You should have learned this in high school.” Yeah, ok…well… The problem here was she said this each class from day one to day end about every assignment. So, if it was all a review, why wasn’t the class named High School Review Algebra instead of College Algebra? Or how about I’m Going To Stand Here And Get A Check For Doing Squat Algebra? Frustrated students would express their displeasure with not understanding and shout their questions. Of course, she ignored them or walked out and not return.

She didn’t teach. She worked a problem and students either got it or not. Talking to her after class was impossible, as there was a door on a stage. She could exit within seconds before any student got close. The door led into the hallway with the elevators…elevators that needed a key to operate. Guess who had those. And catching her doing her office hours was a joke. The university failed to address it… at first…kinda…

See, Dr. S’s husband also taught college algebra in the same manner. And combined, they taught the majority of algebra classes. College algebra was a university required course. Students were pretty much screwed unless they had a natural aptitude for math or got tutoring from a friend or the student center–a fresh can of worms altogether. Combined, the Drs. Ss taught over 80% of freshmen taking algebra in any given semester.

The year I took college algebra, the majority of the students (over 1500) failed the standardized final. The rumor had it that there were only three A’s. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do remember the grades being held up and a special meeting being called. It was the buzz of the campus. The university stepped in and curved the grades for the entire math department. But neither Drs. Ss. were terminated.

I finished the semester ill-equipped for higher mathematics and wondering if and any teacher would actually “teach”. And to this day, I have failed to understand why a university, an institution of higher learning, would allow that kind of nonsense.

Predestination & Getting By With Help From Friends

It’s Sunday—the beginning of the week or the end of it, depending on how one looks at it. I’m sitting in the park, sheltered from the rain in the amphitheater pondering the haves and the have nots. No, not the Tyler Perry series, but the occurrences in life of the fortunate versus the less fortunate. When I was younger and complained, my father always would scowl me and proclaim there were others less fortunate. As I got older, I realized that some other father probably said that to his child, and I would in that be one of the persons that fell into the category of “less fortunate”. See, the theory of “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction” holds true here when speaking of life’s fortunes. If someone is rich, there must be someone poor. If there is someone fortunate, there also must exist someone unfortunate. So, while my father was very correct in informing me during my bellyaching moments that someone was less fortunate than me, simultaneously, there existed someone more fortunate than me. So, why did I have to limit myself to focusing my comparison to only one aspect of the spectrum of fortunate?

As an adult, I’ve been asking myself this question. Two years ago, I took a trip to Houston. I carpooled with a lady, and along the way, we had a discussion that has stuck with me. Her husband is in construction and very well to do. She’s a stay-at-home mother of three and a part-time bookkeeper for her husband. At the time, she was homeschooling two of her children. One child had already graduated from homeschooling, and the school year following this trip, she enrolled her youngest in a private Christian school. Her middle child, she continued to homeschool, because he was close to graduation. I mention the homeschooling aspect because until moving, I had no idea what this truly entailed. Let me say, I’m very impressed and truly stunned by it. It made me want to do it, and I couldn’t help being envious that I was a working parent who couldn’t afford to quit the nine-to-five to homeschool.

So, as we cruised the interstate in her soccer mom SUV, we begin discussing politics and life. In the process, she mentions her father, who was an entrepreneur. She stated, that in the land of capitalism, people were meant to be poor. My jaw dropped. What? We are the land of the plenty. Here, the opportunity to be anything one wants to be exists. With hard work, anyone can be successful. At least, that’s what all my textbooks and teachers had taught me. But she had a different view. She stated that her father was a very determined and hard worker. He put in extended hours daily, but no matter how hard he worked, he was meant to be poor. She pointed to his day-to-day efforts to get by not affording him to have money to set aside. Despite not living above his means, he still fell behind on his bills. Falling behind on bills, lowered his credit rating. His lower credit rating caused him to pay more in interest for loans and limited his lines of credit. Banks turned him away, and he had to use payday loan shark businesses and pawn shops for credit. So, the poorer he was, the more he had to pay—penalized for being poor. It’s a circle difficult, if not impossible for some, to break. She’d been fortunate to break the cycle for herself by marriage. Her husband was upper-middle-class and fortunate to have financial help from his family when starting his business. His parents’ wealthy friends gave generous wedding gifts (money) that afforded them the down payment on their house. The land that they built their home on was family property.

I reflected on what she said and realized her story was not so very uncommon for most people that I know. I didn’t know any successful persons that had come from absolutely nothing who had made it without any help from anyone. The rags to riches stories I knew only existed on the Hallmark Channel. The hard workers who I know are struggling have been struggling most of their lives and getting nowhere. I pondered if this is not what is called “predestination”.

Predestination is not something I ever understood. Many say it is a cop out to do nothing and allow life to happen to us. If it truly exists, though, why do we bother to do anything at all? Others argue that by definition we act because we are predestined to act. But if we have no control over our fate, future, and destiny, is that not depressing? And for the have nots, does that mean conditions will never improve? And is it not beneficial for the haves to have the have nots? For if all the have nots suddenly were to disappear, doesn’t that mean that some of the haves would shift into being have nots? After all, there are always people with more. If the bottom layer of a three-layer cake is cut away, the middle layer becomes the bottom layer. Which makes me wonder if the haves truly seek to help the have nots. Or maybe they help just enough to keep the have nots around.

These deep thoughts have come to me today for a rather superficial reason. I’m a have not on any day due to very real circumstances. But today, I’m a have not, because I’m stuck here due to not having an umbrella. I’m parked too far away to transport my laptop through the downpour.

Schemes…How are they to be understood in the age of social media?

I didn’t get lost, but I had to take a break from my “Understanding” quest to work on other matters, starting with the allergy wheezing that I had going on for weeks. Like Forrest Gump, I got a shot in the buttocks. All better now. I also was submerged in editing my manuscripts for two upcoming publications: a short story, “Harmonious Variation”, (included in the Symphony Amore Anthology) and a novel, Life’s Roux: Wrong Doors, (Red Sage Publishing). Additional, writing projects also are on the horizon that I’ll discuss as they become closer to being finalized.

In the past weeks, I’ve been trying to understand a lot such as why a retro radio station only plays about ten songs before repeating them when there is a decade of songs to choose from. Or why doctors don’t automatically write parents a prescription for anti-anxiety happy pills. I’ve wondered why politics seem to enter every discussion from what toilet paper is the softest to pee-wee T-ball. But mostly, I’ve been trying to understand modern online Ponzi schemes.

I bumped into something that seemed suspiciously close to one. It was posed as an annual “contest”. It didn’t require the constants paying any money to participate (although, contestants could choose to pay for a critique that wasn’t guaranteed make the contestant win but might improve odds). The contest promoters made a big deal that paying for a critique wouldn’t guarantee anything. But without paying for a critique most likely would put contestants at a disadvantage. Okay, so, somewhere in that there’s a distinction.

For months, this contest is highly promoted, and that seems “normal”. I mean, who wouldn’t promote an event? And here’s where it gets slippery. Contestants, of course, promote the event to others. Others ask questions about the event. The promoters advise the best way to learn about the contest and what it takes to win is to look at the past contests. To look at the past contests, contestants must pay. So, it’s killing two birds with one stone, right? Promoting and collecting funds.

However, looking at the contest winners, one can’t help noticing a repeat of names. The same people keep winning. Now, is that unusual? Maybe not. After all, look at Super Bowls and how many teams are repeat winners. But when the same team wins repeatedly, soon, fans become suspicious and begin to question if the team is just that good or is there something hokey afoot. And so, it is to ponder are contests like these social media Ponzi schemes?

What’s even more puzzling is that in asking a simple question such as does such social media Ponzi schemes exist, the level of paranoia to contest promoters increase. “Is that an accusation?” “Is the comment/question aimed towards my contest?” Well, the police always say innocent people don’t run. If a contest is legit, why would a promoter think the finger is being pointed at his/her contest? If a contest is legit, why would a promoter be alarmed by questions? With so many cons in the world, why would a legit contest promoter be offended by a constant investigating the legitimacy of a contest? An innocent person wouldn’t give two thoughts to any statements until someone calls them by name and make a direct accusation. It’s nothing to get anyone’s panties in a wad.

Now, all that being said, there are thousands of contests on social media. Some legit and some not so much. It’s not fair to lump all of them together. That would be a gross bias and hugely unfair. The task comes in determining which is what, and that may not be simple. That’s where the understanding is key. Contestants must understand what they are involving and all aspects of the contest, not just what is presented on the surface. A good question for a contestant to ask is if he/she doesn’t win, is he/she out of anything (other than time). Another question a contestant could ask is if any investments made worth the possible outcome of losing. But the biggest question to ask would be how does the contest truly work.

One last thought. Even if a contest is a scheme, if the investment isn’t too much and the contestant has fun, what harm does it do anyone? Have fun. Just understand what you’re doing.

Understanding Is A Dance

So, this understanding business isn’t going so hot. I don’t understand economics. I don’t understand politics. And I definitely don’t understand evil. At this point, I’m not certain I want to understand these things. But I’m not going to dive into such heavy topics when there are simple mundane things I don’t understand, like say ballet recitals.

For years, I’ve attended local ballet recitals. It never fails that every year there’s that one kid… This year, it was a precious little thing in a yellow tutu that flopped on stage with her mouth hippo-wide and crocodile tears streaming down her face. When the dance helper attempted to coax her into dancing, she proceeded to become a ball of limp, dead weight. The more coaxing the helper gave, the louder the child’s wails, and the unrulier her she became. Her not moving, interfered with the other girls attempting to follow the routine with their tiny, uncoordinated preschool bodies. In the meantime, it all is forever being captured by a professional videographer who fees start at $35.00 for a DVD. (Parents are prohibited from filming in a ploy to increase video sales. Also, the older children perform different dances on more than one day, and that means their parents wind up purchasing more than one DVD. Clever sales tactic.)

Now, this is a small child; so, I’m not expecting her to be rational or anything less than egocentric. What baffles me is the reactions of the parents/crowd—the laughter and the “oohs and ahhs” isn’t that precious? No. No, it isn’t. It’s a temper tantrum. A temper tantrum that I’ll have to watch over and over in my home when I watch the DVD. However, I can overlook that. Well, I really won’t, but I’ll pretend I will.

What chaps my buttocks is that the older girls who spend hours practicing and suffer through blisters, bleeding toes, bruised knees, and fatigue from having late classes after a long day at school (minus a naptime). These older girls are often seen in sitting on the floor between classes cramming for tests or writing essays. Many are academic honor students despite spending between fifteen to twenty hours a week at the dance studio taking contemporary/lyrical, classical, and pointe classes. These girls aspire to become professional ballerinas and make sacrifices to be at dance class daily. Their tuition, costumes, and shoes are all more expensive. These girls take the incentive to put in extra hours of practice and fundraise for the studio. These girls are also the helpers of the little ones. One would think that during a recital, their effort would be appreciated and rewarded by applause. But no. Who do the parents/crowd cheer for the loudest during bows? Little miss let-me-mop-the-floor-with-my-tutu-by-wallowing-around-for-no-good- reason.

The crowd seems to ignore that although these girls are older, they are still children. They have feelings. They are on stage, because they love it and want to entertain others. They hope to get feedback in the applause to let them know when they know when they are doing something pleasing and correct. They receive slightly more than crickets in applause to the degree it’s almost insulting. Even worse, is that the parents are the smaller children often stand from their seats during the older girls’ performances and leave. So, while the parents of older kids endure the horrors of an hour of watching skipping and jumping out of rhythm of the little ones, their parents aren’t respectful enough to remain seated during the performance of the older children—and interfering with the unauthorized videotaping the older children’s parents are doing.

If the older children’s parents engaged in the same behavior, it would be pandemonium. Red-faced parents would yell, “How dare you not pay attention to my rhythmically-challenged child with the lackluster choreography.” Yes, I get that’s a savage assessment of the situation. I guess it proves a failure in understanding.

Understanding Love & Marriage & In-laws

After the last two days, I’m moving on from the gift of knowledge. Hopefully, I’ll find the gift of understanding more identifiable in my life, but I’m not holding my breath. Although, I used to swim a lot when I was younger, and I got pretty good at holding my breath under water. Still, I don’t think I’ve mastered holding my breath enough to apply in this instance. I shall see.

My working definition of understanding is the ability to grasp the essence of truth and a penetrating insight into the core of things.

So, I’ll jump right in with an incident related to me by a coworker. Her daughter is getting married in a few weeks, and apparently, there is discord amongst the in-laws. Now, this kind of thing is seen all the time on television sitcoms and movies, but it’s not too humorous when it occurs in one’s own family. Disclaimer, I will admit, I did laugh at my coworker’s expense. (Sorry.)

There have been issues between the families for the duration of the engagement and possibly long before then. I didn’t ask when it started, but it has been very apparent the last couple of months. The most recent incident involved the rehearsal dinner. The gist is that the groom’s parents want to have the rehearsal dinner for the Saturday wedding on Thursday night at a location more than an hour away and invite people who aren’t in the wedding. Now, according to Brides.com, it is acceptable to invite out-of-town guests who have traveled to attend the wedding as a thank you gesture for attending. I interpreted this to mean guests who have traveled an extended distance and who will be staying at the out-of-town venue at least overnight. In my coworker’s situation, the out-of-town guests (not a part of the wedding party) were traveling from a few hours away, would travel home after the rehearsal dinner Thursday night, spend the day resting on Friday, and then travel back several hours on Saturday for the wedding. Huh?

The second part of my coworker’s complaint is that her family (the bride’s family) will either need to get up early Friday morning to go to work or are elderly and will have trouble traveling so late at night. Additionally, my coworker and the bridal party intended to decorate the wedding venue Friday evening. Since the wedding isn’t being catered completely, there is cooking that also must be done by members of the bridal party. Thus, having a reception on Thursday is a big inconvenience to the bridal’s family and bridesmaids.

On the opposing side, the groom’s family has no issues with this plan, and since they are paying for… Okay, so, here’s where I started giggling. The groom’s family is/was slated to pay for the rehearsal dinner. However, the groom’s family felt that after the actual rehearsal, they would be too tired to go to a venue to eat and did not want to cater the event professionally. They also didn’t feel they wanted to prepare a food and cater it themselves. Their solution: as guests left the rehearsal to give them envelops with an unspecified amount of money to forge dinner on their own. But it doesn’t end there. The town where the rehearsal dinner is being held is very small and has few restaurants—most of which are mom-n-pop. Of the restaurants in the area, none have hours beyond five o’clock, except one, that if booked, will remain open for private parties. But the groom’s parents didn’t want to use this restaurant. There is one chain restaurant (think golden arches), and it would be the only eating venue option in town. To add fuel to the fire, it was questionable not only the amount that would be given but if all attending guests would receive a dinner “voucher”. The groom’s family was adamant to handle the reception this way and demanded that the bride’s family “will comply or there will be no wedding”. They’ve also stated they will make a scene if the bride’s family interferes in any way with these plans. Well, now.

I’m sure that if this was my life, I’d find little humor in this, but since it’s not…

Obviously, the lines are drawn in the mud, and there’s no room for compromise. And that’s where I attempted to apply “understanding.” If I view it from the perspective of the bride, groom’s parents’ proposed plans are inconsiderate, inappropriate, and well…tacky. If viewing from the groom’s parents, it is their only son being married. Naturally, they would want to have a say and participate in the wedding on some level. Since the bride’s family has had most of the say in planning and orchestrating the wedding, the rehearsal dinner should be the responsibility of the groom. The wedding couple, I’m sure wants to please everyone. But what I don’t can’t wrap my head around is why hasn’t the wedding couple taken control. I mean, it seems that if there are this many issues now, unless there is some divine intervention, the discord between the two families will only grow after the ceremony. They already have each other block on social media. I can’t image any happy family gathering, especially if children come into play later.

There’s a saying that when two people get married, they also marry each other’s family. I know many people do not buy into that philosophy, but family is important. One can’t remove DNA. One doesn’t get more “core” than DNA.

There’s the argument that love conquers all. But consider what the divorce rate, and ask what contributes to that number. Does family interference play a part? And when a spouse needs a moment to vent, to work out thoughts before saying something painful to the other spouse, who do they generally turn to other than family and friends? And there’s nothing worse than confiding in someone who has serious issues with the person one’s confiding about. Be prepared for, “I told you not to marry that person in the first place”. How horrible for a child frequently to be place in a position of choosing between parent and spouse. I can’t understand how that would be satisfying and not a source of martial problems on some level. Sure, some level of disagreement may be acceptable. But this here is the Hatfields and McCoys reinvented. And why wouldn’t the in-laws want to get along for the sake of their children and future grandchildren?

I’m just going to have to find understanding else place, because this, I just don’t get. Oh, and if anyone is wandering, the bride’s family is planning to hold a rehearsal dinner for the bridal party, and members of the groom’s party who elect to stay. If after this weekend the murder rate rises, we’ll all know how it went.

Cheaters Aren’t The Wisest

Today’s lesson in wisdom is an old one: Cheaters will eventually get caught.

So, see what had happened was… You already know the direction where this is headed, don’t you? Okay, there’s this guy. Yes, it has to involve a person of the opposite sex for it to be such a moronic occurrence. Anyway, there’s a guy who claims to be interest and faithful. Now, before I go further, let me explained the technicalities. First, we aren’t a “couple” per se.  For one, we live in different towns. There’s an age difference, quite significant. Plus, we can busy schedules, mine I believe is more complex than his. So, those are the basics that must be kept in mind.

There are times when our lives become too hectic to communicate by phone or text. He doesn’t email or use social media. Sometimes, these stretches are a couple of days, and other times it may be a couple of months. And sometimes, they’ve been self-imposed for needing a break. When he doesn’t talk to me in a couple of weeks, he questions who I’m “fooling around with”; although, officially, that wouldn’t be his business. Nevertheless, I always answer the same: no one. If I’m too busy to pick up a phone and dial a number from my contacts, what makes him think I have time to fool around? No, boo, it’s called “working”. Simple. I work hard and juggle a lot. I pull long hours. Most people are used to me burning the midnight oil, and it not uncommon to find me away at 2:00 AM. My average sleep time is about 3-5 hours a day. I know that’s not great, but that’s how it is for me to get done what I need. However, for the last several months, I’ve not been feeling great (this sinus season is about to do me in), and I’ve been conking out earlier than usual. So, I may be asleep at 11:00 PM and missing those late-night calls. I do have to get up at 5:00 AM each day,

I don’t question him when he disappears, giving him the benefit of the doubt. But he always—and I do mean always—volunteers that he’s not seeing or hooking up with anyone during the periods of absences. Technically, it wouldn’t matter if he was, because, remember, we’re not a couple. So, it’s not really my business, which is why I don’t ask. But he treats it as if it is. Okay. So, be it.

That leads to the occurrence tonight. I’m doing some editing, a tedious task that I detest but know is a necessary evil. I’m working on a self-imposed deadline, and I’m days behind. Anyone who has ever had to edit know, editing is like budgeting for flipping a house. Expect unexpected overages and delays. So, my mood is already foul. But I decided to take a work break.

Now, for me, a work break means I stop doing the specific thing I’m doing and do something related. In editing, I’d come to a scene, and I questioned the male character’s perspective. Therefore, I shoot a text to this guy and ask for his opinion to a question. No, I didn’t tell him why I was asking. I simply texted the question and awaited a response.

Well, let me make a small confession. I kind of expected him to respond with a lie, for him to portray himself in a positive light. After knowing him for years and his past statements, his attitude towards certain groups isn’t very accepting. Although, if asked directly, he denies any bias. Also, he knows me well enough to know his honest answer is going to piss me off. So, yeah, I guess it was a trick question. But I’d rather be angry at an honest answer than a lie.

He responded, and his answer wasn’t important. See, he began reading things into the question and asking me questions. He began personalizing it. Even when I lead with a disclaimer not to read anything into it, he does. Everything is always subjective with him. Well, it’s been several days since we communicated. When we last talked, he abruptly ended the conversation, stating that his elderly mother was phoning him on the other line. His mother is in poor health; so, she is a top priority for him. To me, not only is it understandable that he cares for his mom is such a manner, but also commendable. Thus, I thought nothing of him ending the conversation. He never phoned back and went MIA for several days.

When I text him today, it was our first time communicating since then. He responded to my question with a side step answer, then began with the reading into it. He sent several messages. In the process, he sends me a photo of a woman who’s half nude. Now…

I like to consider myself rational. He’s sent other odd photos (like of a goat and wild pig) and then denied doing so. But never had he had a “slip” as this one. Naturally, I questioned why he would send me such a photo. His response, “It’s the dress attire for a party in Memphis.” Huh?

So, my next question isn’t what type of party this is; although, that does cross my mind. No, I want to know why he sent it to me. I text back that I don’t live in Memphis and even if I did, I wouldn’t attend a party like that. His response: “I know. I’m sorry.”

Yeah, sorry, you’re busted for doing what I already suspected anyway—talking to other women, hooking up, sexting, and whatnot. Fine, if that’s your thing, that’s your thing. But why not be straight up about it? Why do some people feel a selfish need to cheat in secret when they can be honest and openly do whatever they want? As I said, we’re not a couple, never have been. Am I hurt? Well, yeah, but not for reasons most think. I’m hurt, because he thinks I’m an idiot. I may not have the highest IQ in the room, but I’m wise to this game. So, score one point for me in the wisdom column. Try again, boo.

Chiefs and Indians

This week, I’m supposed to be discovering if I have wisdom. Well, today, I probably should have felt a tad wise, but I didn’t.

Several months ago at work, I encountered a situation that I knew would be problematic. I informed my supervisor that we shouldn’t get involved in a situation that reeked of trouble miles away. However, she proceeded to say that we would, and I drew the short straw to be the unfortunate person who when everything hit the fan would be hit smack dab in the face.

Reluctantly, I dove in into the cesspool of horror. After I completed my report as an Indian, I went to the chief. And the problem then expanded. See, I have more than one chief. One chief said one thing, a second chief said another. Then, the second chief decided to involve a third chief. The third chief had a different opinion from the first chief–of course. But I didn’t feel comfortable with the third chief’s opinion and expressed it. That made no one happy.

After a meeting, the third chief and I came to a compromise, which basically meant I gave her what she wanted by using very ambiguous language. Oh, the political correctness has fileted the backbone out of ethics. The report was then presented to a committee of chiefs, and after much, talking, more watering down happened. But it wasn’t done. It went to yet another set of chiefs, who called one of the committee chiefs who called my chief who said change it to be something very controversial. Confused? If not, you are ahead of me.

So, it was changed, and the weeks rolled by slowly. Just because something is easy, doesn’t mean it’s right or should be done. Well, as one can imagine, it came back to not just bite but chomp. And guess who needed a tetanus shot. The first words from my mouth were, “I told you so.” But even with, I’m the one with the spilled milk left to mop. I’m the one who had to rework it what shouldn’t have been into something it should be without looking like an idiot.

Now, a wise Indian would have from the start found a method to avoid this and circumvent the interference of the chiefs. That didn’t happen. Instead, the Indian got scalped.

Lessons from Children

It’s early May, in the south, and … cold? Meteorologists, scientists, and environmentalists can explain it however they like, but honestly, southerners don’t care as to why. We just want warmth. Morning temp in the upper fifties has me out searching like an anti-vamp for sunlight.

I geared up in my collegiate wear—the devoted alum that I am—and headed to the park with the intention of working on my writing projects while basking in rays of the sun. But everyone knows the proverb about good intentions and what street they may pave. Distractions come easily for me—first was a local band still setup on stage from yesterday’s park festival. Before disassembling, they decided to crank a few more out to the trees, joggers, squirrels, and groupies they brought with them. The next was the gentle breeze, humming me to sleep but prevent by the shrieking kids playing on the jungle gym.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. One kid. There was a girl around six or seven whose shrill found the base of my spinal cord and pogoed on it like an electric eel. Her screams were a horror movie casting director’s dream. I mean, this girl hollered. Her screams were obnoxious and pointless. She wasn’t being hurt or responding to others. In fact, none of the other children appeared to play with her, but she seemed to think she was playing with them. The other kids chased each other, and this little girl screamed and ran when the chasers came close. But the chaser never attempted to chase her or acknowledge that she wanted to be chased. No one addressed her or even looked in her direction. She merely ran the gauntlet of obstacles, yelling at her lungs’ full capacity. Bless her poor mother who surely must drink.

But the girl’s screaming got me to thinking. How often in life do we engage in actions for not intended purpose? I’m very guilty, and I know I am anytime some questions as to why I did something and my response is “I don’t know”.

Sometimes, that is mainly how I progress through my day. I have random thoughts and wander aimlessly through miles of useless cognitions and daydreams. There’s a certain internet site that truly enables this behavior. Once I visit it, I may spend hours clicking on endless photos and clogging my neurons and glial cells with DIYs I’ll never do.

At times, at work, I’ll read an old report I completed and want to melt into the floor tiles from its lack of sophistication and/or creativity to go beyond the status quo. Acceptable and competent the reports may be but nowhere close to my potential.

In my personal life, I find myself lost mid-sentence due to my not being invested fully. This is especially obvious when it comes to my remembering new names. Someone introduces himself/herself to me, and before he/she finishes, I’ve already forgotten. On Mondays, I reflect on the weekend and can’t recall spending it. I don’t mean a “blackout” amnesia, but rather, having performed activities so insignificant I can’t recall what they are.

In retrospect, it doesn’t seem wise to have so much of my life constituting to one ginormous, futile scream. The Serenity Prayer speaks of having the wisdom to differentiate between things that can and can’t be changed. So, by my acknowledging this to be an area in my life that needs changing, I suppose that denotes a certain degree of wisdom. I’m taking my lessons from a child.